"free the nipples"
I beat a guy
who had a crush on me
at beer pong
we got stoned
in the Walmart parking lot
when my car wouldn't start
6 months later
he
In her third memoir, Belief is its own kind of truth, Maybe, Lori Jakiela uses a collage-style structure to write about the collage-like process of assembling an identity, and the particular
Eventually she won't think of me unless she hears mention of my name, or sees my friends, or a boxy japanese sedan from the 80s, or, perhaps, a Paul Simon poster
When I die
I'll die
In the woods
I will be found
After 14 months
By a 9 year old
You're picturing a boy
But it's a girl
She is lost
And climbs over a log
To see
If she
Luke walks that line inbetween doing his booty-shaking and grinding on stage and also seeming like your “cool” youth pastor and that's not a knock. I love Luke Bryan and there's something about him that seems so genuine and sweet, I can't even picture him being fussy or rude with anyone.
I’m a stockpiling cakemix of a man trapped in the well Tarantino dug for me around age eleven.
at work last night a group of brisbane boys came to sydney
they hired our function room to celebrate their friend's bucks night
they had been at the races all day betting on horses and
Jordan Castro reviews rapper Travis Scott's debut studio album Rodeo.
I’ve thought a lot about what it is that draws me into slasher films as a gay man. Maybe I am drawn to them because I read about so many queer people being victimized; in a way I am turning to them for survival tips.
We had no idea what Erotica Week would look like when we dreamed it up, over Twitter, months ago. And now that it's finally here, I'd describe it like this: the stories and poems on the site this
We had no idea what Erotica Week would look like when we dreamed it up, over Twitter, months ago. And now that it's finally here, I'd describe it like this: the stories and poems on the site this
We had no idea what Erotica Week would look like when we dreamed it up, over Twitter, months ago. And now that it's finally here, I'd describe it like this: the stories and poems on the site this
We had no idea what Erotica Week would look like when we dreamed it up, over Twitter, months ago. And now that it's finally here, I'd describe it like this: the stories and poems on the site this
We had no idea what Erotica Week would look like when we dreamed it up, over Twitter, months ago. And now that it's finally here, I'd describe it like this: the stories and poems on the site this
We had no idea what Erotica Week would look like when we dreamed it up, over Twitter, months ago. And now that it's finally here, I'd describe it like this: the stories and poems on the site this
Over the course of being mounted by this tome, I took up a pipe, drank scotch from an airplane toilet, consigned to rubbing myself down with strange bleaches, minced any sense of diet intentionally diabetic by an assortment of binge ate junk...
I spent a considerable amount of my time online drooling on myself, arguing with the Courtney Love haters who camped out on her website, and searching for low- effort ways to get off the pills. None existed.
We had no idea what Erotica Week would look like when we dreamed it up, over Twitter, months ago. And now that it's finally here, I'd describe it like this: the stories and poems on the site this
We had no idea what Erotica Week would look like when we dreamed it up, over Twitter, months ago. And now that it's finally here, I'd describe it like this: the stories and poems on the site this
It wasn’t my intention when I set out this afternoon to penetrate these woods, but I am here again, tracking a deer, a tanned phantom slipping in and out of the shoots of fern.
I've respected Rachel B. Glaser's sense of mischief for years. When I heard she'd written a novel, Paulina & Fran (2015), I was excited to see it. What the heck could it be? I thought. Was it
So I retired and wrote a book, / called games for NBC. / But I was far too fond of drink / and prone to anarchy, / my own damn anarchy.
The apartment listing, spare and direct, stood apart from the exclamation points that forested her vision.
The cops catch your friend, bullet belt and pants around his ankles. Chain link fence skins your back. Your ankle grinds like burnt clutch on your girlfriend’s Jeep. She keeps a pair of dog tags in her apron. There is a divot in her hipbone.
I came by to talk. Figured it was time to fix a few things.
...darling Jennifer Jason Leigh. An actress who knows pain and ain’t fucking around. I miss her for his art. Margot at the Wedding is devastating. It is pursed-lips mean. You can’t measure its parsimony on heart.
